


Rain, Rainbows and Rags

by Brillador



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Rescue, Romance, Rumbelle Christmas in July
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brillador/pseuds/Brillador
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Enchanted Forest, meeting, fairy, cage. At five inches tall, the world is very big to Lady Belle, but she’s determined to find her place in it. But who can be a hero at her size? Maybe a mouse, a fairy, and a witch can help her answer that question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle had considered turning back several times, but no more so than when the rain came crashing down. If she had decided to return home, the huge drops pounding everything around her made movement impossible. She’d been lucky to catch only a grazing that, upon watery impact, sent her flying a few inches. She’d also been lucky enough to be near a patch of mushrooms big enough to hide under. Clutching her little bag of bread crumbs and a map she’d drawn herself before embarking on this rather mad adventure, the five-inch noblewoman did her best to sleep and stay dry. At least the mushroom stalk was soft enough to rest against without discomfort.

Memories flickered through her drowsy mind. Her father’s voice called from far away, flooded with outrage and fear. Why was she doing this? How could this, living like a mouse in the dangerous wide world, be better than marriage to a man a hundred times her size who she may, or may not, come to love? Sir Gaston had come the closest to a viable match in Sir Maurice’s eyes. Belle saw the giant in her dreams now and felt only dread. There was nothing kind in those eyes staring from on high. At least her father was mindful to pick her up with permission and to not move too quickly while she sat in his palm or, as she preferred, perched on his shoulder. To be fair, Gaston was not allowed physical contact in most situations, since it was more or less against propriety for a man, even a knight, to manhandle a maid, even his fiancée. A couple times, however, in a moment where gallantry apparently overruled etiquette, Gaston had scooped Belle up quickly and unexpectedly. The dizziness was so severe she couldn’t even snap at him to put her down until she was sure she wouldn’t be sick or faint.

If nothing else, being out in the world—more specifically the forest somewhere east of her hometown—promised that such a thing wouldn’t happen if she stayed away from people and big animals. She’d suffered a few close calls with a toad, a magpie that was more interested in adding her to its collection than its meal, and a vivacious kitten. Napping under a mushroom during a rainstorm was one of the calmest episodes in her travels to date.

She didn’t know how she managed, but on waking Belle saw the rain was gone, and a dark sky blanketed with stars and a sliver of moon smiled at her. The ground and the dead leaves and sticks covering it were soggy, which slowed her progress. Speed concerned Belle when escaping danger. The forest was singing with nocturnal choirs, and it was hard to see, but she was more worried about staying quiet to avoid drawing attention. She collected a droplet off the mushroom and took it with her, taking sips to quench her thirst. When she finished it, Belle began to wonder where she’d find food. At home the cooks prepared her dishes on the smallest plates they had. She had never appreciated them more before now. Finding anything edible by human standards was a major feat in the wilderness. She’d found berries and some greens growing in a peasant’s garden; the greens mingled with bread crumbs in the bag. The berries had to be eaten before they spoiled. Bread and mint were all well and good, but her stomach ached for something more substantial.

A few feet off to her left stood a road. She’d been following it for a week. It would take her to a small town where she could get vittles without being crushed or mistaken for vermin. So she kept hoping, and hoping. She’d also hoped that a passing rider or carriage would notice her waving and jumping amid the grass that matched her height. No luck there. The pounding hooves of the horses and the clattering wheels drowned out her voice. Once she ran in front of an oncoming wagon transporting hay. All that achieved was making the driver swerve his horse and sending the cart into a spin. Hay flew everywhere. She ended up buried in a couple handfuls of the stuff and went unseen as the driver, probably thinking he’d nearly hit a fairy, continued on his way.

Walking wasn’t so bad, really, as long as she was careful. Out here there were no maids to carry her from room to room, nor ladders tailored to her size so she could stand on a table for dinner. The terrain was made of twisted twigs, curled leaves and forests of grass, and fellow travelers ranged from scampering mice to a line of food-laden ants. The ants were cute and frightening at the same time. Belle wouldn’t have minded a pet for companionship, but to intervene meant incurring the curiosity (or hunger) of a whole colony and dozens of antennae tickling her everywhere. Her favorite encounter had been with a white butterfly that landed on a lonesome daisy. She couldn’t help stopping and staring like a love-struck suitor as the delicate creature sipped from the flower’s yellow face. Much like a deer, a single motion from her scared off the butterfly to new and safer feeding grounds.

What she wouldn’t give for a little human company, though. That was why on the evening after the rain, the world soaked, her belly empty and her knapsack nearly so, her first glimpse of a thatch-roofed cottage through the trees made her unreasonably gleeful. There was no telling who lived there, if anyone. But her mind was set when a new thick cloud crept over the trees, heading for the thumbnail moon. Belle broke into a run and prayed to whichever gods were listening that an owl wouldn’t spot her. Her lungs were burning when she reached the front door, somehow undetected by any beasts. The crack under it was too small to squeeze through even for her, so she circled the hut’s foundations until she found a hole. It looked like it had been chewed into existence. On hands and knees, further soiling her already stained blue dress, she wormed down the tunnel. To be in a house again! She didn’t care that she’d have to wash her clothes, ideally at a pump instead of a stream where a snake could make her its lunch, or a frog might knock her in on accident. She ignored the draft that rushed around her as she stepped into a nook beneath the cottage floors. Some ants and an intimidating cockroach had made it their hideaway. They scurried while picking up crumbs and bits of leaves. Belle wrapped her cloak around her shivering arms and searched for a way into the cottage itself.

A mouse’s squeak came from a dusty corner. She couldn’t see it but the noise made her smile. A mouse was big enough to have made the hole she’d crawled through. If she could find it and follow it up, she’d be inside the house proper in no time! The squeaks continued, leading her to another tunnel above the crawlspace. Expecting a bright-eyed creature that would probably run at the sight of her, her breath hitched. A brown mouse lay on its side. Its nose and whiskers twitched, as did the back leg that lay at an awkward angle. The meaning of its squeaks became clear.

“You poor thing!” Belle whispered. Something had caught the mouse’s leg and pulled it the wrong way. Maybe a cat had gotten it, or its foot had been wedged in a trap. The mouse had to be a clever and quick one to escape with its life. With such pain, though, the cost of survival was high.

At her size, a mouse was approximate to a very big dog, or a small pony. If it wanted to hurt it, its teeth wouldn’t have trouble. Its shiny, pained eyes reeled her in. Belle slowly approached with a friendly but wary hand out-stretched. “Hey there. You poor dear. It’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt you. It’s all right.”

When the mouse jerked up its head, Belle momentarily lost her nerve. She stopped. Her hand pulled back.

The mouse’s nose wiggled. It seemed to be assessing her. She could understand if it was perturbed to see a small human. To most animals it didn’t matter, but Belle caught an intelligent glimmer in the mouse’s eyes. After a very long minute of tense hesitation, the mouse dragged itself by the forepaws to her. Belle’s heart skipped, hardly believing the trust it showed. She accepted it gladly. She dropped to her knees and reached out again, this time closing the distance. Its fur was soft. The mouse squeaked in appreciation. True joy blossomed in her like a dormant tree at the start of spring. After petting its head, she attended to the injured limb. She’d read her fair share of books on anatomy—well, human anatomy–-in the wake of the Ogres War. It was her attempt to contribute in some way to the soldiers’ efforts. A nurse had answered her queries about the right way to treat a broken leg or arm. While her resources were more limited here than at home, Belle could use the green cloak on her shoulders. Off it came.

She did her best to swaddle the leg without causing more discomfort. A sharp squeak now and then was a small price once the job was done.

With its leg bound, the mouse rose onto the other three. It limped, but it could walk a little. Belle stayed close and wondered what to do next.

“I don’t think you can or should climb with that leg. But how will you get food?”

As though answering the question, the mouse lumbered down the tunnel. It looked back to her. She was meant to follow. An uncanny thing—she had not expected gratitude from the mouse, but who was she to question it? Curiosity beckoned her.

The tunnel continued straight for a while, then bent into severe rights and lefts and one incline that was shallow enough for the mouse to clamber up. Belle tried not to cough as dust chased them. She was all too glad when they came out of a hole in a wall, finally inside the cottage. The first thing to stand out to her was a fireplace directly across the room. It was still lit, but the embers burned low. The room was warm. On top the fire sat a cauldron. Some strange aroma, potent but not unpleasant, wafted from its round black body. While it didn’t smell like food, Belle’s stomach reminded her that she’d been wanting a full meal all this week.

The mouse squeaked again. Belle's gaze alighted on his sprained leg. Yes, he needed food, too. They had to get to the kitchen. While she’d avoided stealing so far (maybe except for the garden), they were so small that the house’s owner wouldn't suffer. In fact, if she found the person and explained her situation, her host might show sympathy to both her and the mouse.

Belle tiptoed into the room. All was quiet. No purring from a cat or panting from a dog. She summoned up a bit more bravery and dashed across the floor to the hearth. A few frightful squeaks nearly stopped her. Belle threw all her wind into her legs until she was safely on the other side and pressing against one of the inside brick walls of the hearth. It was especially warm here, the orange and red flames smoldering close by. The proximity was more comforting than alarming. It took the chill from her skin. Belle was all the more grateful when a crack of thunder erupted overhead. A minute later a sheet of rain came down outside. Would the water get in through the chimney? Maybe the cauldron would protect the small fire.

She checked the other side of the room for her friend. The mouse had been startled enough to hide under a chair next to the table. When the thunder passed, the rodent raised his head from under trembling paws. To her astonishment, he waved for her to come back. Belle cocked her head in confusion. Again the mouse gestured more urgently.

He didn’t want her venturing so far from an easy escape point. That she could understand; his ability to communicate so precisely was what left her befuddled.

Could he be under an enchantment? Belle didn't know much about magic except from her father’s inquiries about its use to make her normal-sized. It might've been possible for a sorcerer to turn a person into the mouse now waving at her. Would it understand her if she answered?

Worth a try. Belle shook her head, pointed to her open mouth, then to the knapsack still hanging on her shoulders.

The mouse shook its head and waved a third time. It understood all right. It just didn’t want her searching for food now. Not in this direction. Well, the mouse had to have a sense of the cottage’s layout. Belle crept out of her warm cranny and started across the hearth. There was no purpose in glancing up to the table beside the chair the mouse was under, but she did. The sight of it made her pause.

The edge of a green plate was on the table. A pastry was sitting there. From this angle it appeared untouched and left out for no reason.  
She could hardly help her interest. Wisdom warned her, but Belle felt her heart lighten and her stomach groan with longing. She resumed walking, but this time toward the table.

The mouse's squeak sounded like a frantic question.

“There’s food up there,” she whispered while pointing up.

Her friend wagged his head.

“I’ll be quick, I promise!” She was already at one of the legs. This adventure had granted many opportunities to practice clambering up trees and plants for protection or a better view. The wood of the table leg was old and not well-polished. That meant plenty of footholds. Belle hiked up her skirt and tied it in a knot around her waist, leaving her legs bare except for her bloomers, stockings and shoes. Up she went with as much speed as clothing and skill allowed.

Five minutes passed before she reached the tabletop’s ledge. The legs were positioned close to the top’s sides. Belle could grab the edge and haul herself up after much grunting and pausing to wipe the sweat from her forehead. If she wasn’t a very athletic person prior to this expedition, she had to be by now. Still, she stopped to catch her breath once her body went tumbling onto the table. Huffing and puffing, she rolled her head to get a look at what the plate had to offer.

Ah, gods, it looked so good she might make herself sick! Granted a chunk of crust had been broken off. The missing piece revealed the dark juicy insides, ground meat mixed with chopped vegetables and gravy. Belle started to prop herself up. Now to take some bits down for her and the mouse—

“The hell are you doing?”

She yelped. Her head swung toward the nasally voice. Hard to say which was worse: the sudden neck strain, or the realization that a cage was sitting on the table this whole time and she hadn’t seen it.

The small and startling blow to her vanity was forgotten as utter astonishment set in. There was a person in the cage! The contraption was big enough to hold a canary, but it lacked a door, the shine of brass, and the swinging perch birds usually enjoyed in their captivity. The dull, black, slightly rusted bars meant it was made from iron. More intriguing was its prisoner. In this light, Belle could partly see the shape of a man behind the curving vertical bars. She ignored her hurting neck in her rush to stand. She untied her skirts to hide her underwear while trying very, very hard not to look flustered.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“Oh! Then I suppose if I weren’t here watching you steal my food, that would make it all okay, eh?”

Although a blanket of menace was draped around his tone, the man spoke more like a jeering child than an outraged resident disturbed by a thief.

“Of course not,” Belle confessed with some shame. Her stomach didn’t help her case. It growled like a lion.

“Ah,” said the man, “so it’s a crime of necessity. Well, so long as the witch doesn’t catch you, help yourself.”

She straightened. Had she heard right? Had she heard both things right? It took a second to decide which to ask about first. “There’s a witch here?”

“Ohhh yes!” The man twiddled his fingers. “She’s quite fond of terrorizing little girls like yourself. She’ll gobble you up, I have no doubt! But no reason not to do some gobbling of your own while you can.” He gave a giggle. Partly girlish and childish, the sound made her skin prickle.

So this cottage belonged to a witch. That potentially explained her mouse friend’s human-like actions. This new knowledge did nothing to calm Belle’s stomach. Yet her interest was divided between that unhappy development and the man before her. He was about her height—half an inch taller, perhaps. The difference was a noticeable one at this level, but to think there was someone only half an inch taller and not six feet taller! His proportions matched, too.

She let the meat pie alone to move closer to the cage.

“Ah, the pie is that way, dearie,” the man said. A thin finger pointed to the space behind her.

“Why are you in a cage? Who are you?” Belle came all the way to the bars. Now she could see, and air briefly left her. The man wasn’t really a man. Something odd about his skin—it glinted like the night sky. Tiny shards of starlight twinkling all over. He moved away as she approached, but when she stopped, he did, too. His head craned to one side. It wore curtains of wavy locks that reached past his chin, shy of his shoulders. His fingers hardly ever stopped moving. They flicked, fidgeted, fiddled about like insect antennae. Finally he rolled them into fists. He didn’t come all the way to the bars, just close enough that Belle could see more facial details. Round eyes stood out. The irises were too big or the pupils too small. His noise was narrow, his cheekbones high, and the laugh lines deep around his slender lips.

He wore a coat, trousers, a vest, and boots all of leather. They reflected bits of light as no other fabric could. The coat could have been crocodile or dragon skin from the scaly texture. Something else was attached to his back. It was hard to tell looking from the front. Belle did notice that a pair of what could have been coattails hung down behind his knees. They were too stiff, too broad and too translucent to be the coattails of his leather coat.

The man answered none of her questions, so Belle tried another. “Are those … wings?”

He started, blinking and taking half a step back. After peering over his shoulder, he hesitated before shrugging. “S’pose they are. Want a look?”

Her heart missed a beat. “If you don’t mind my looking.”

Half his mouth stretched up before he slowly spun around. The darkness couldn’t smother the gleam of his golden moth wings. They caught the hearth’s little blaze. Belle could have believed they were fashioned from real gold leaves, sheer as paper. The webbed pattern, the glittery surface and the shades ranging from sunshine to bronze mesmerized her until he faced forward.

“Satisfied?” he chirped.

“Yes—they’re incredible!” Belle leaned in as much as the bars let her. “You’re a fairy, aren’t you?”

“Indeed. What gave it away? The wings, or my lovely complexion?”

The words pulled out a smile from Belle’s rosy lips. “Give me a little credit. I’ve never met a fairy before.”

“Nor have I met one of your … kind. You know what I am. Care to return the courtesy?”

“I wish I had a helpful answer, but I don’t.” Her smile partly fell. “I am human, as much as I know. Just … very miniature.”

“ _Very_ miniature.” An inquisitive look. Coming from those eyes, Belle felt herself under more scrutiny than she expected from someone closer to her size. After a minute, the man said, “You’re sure you’re not a fairy who’s lost her wings?”

“Quite sure,” she said.

“Hmm.” He scratched his chin with what she now realized was a dark, long fingernail. She’d read about fairies, but they were illustrated as pretty, delicate beings that exuded light. This fairy more sparkled than glowed, and was otherwise a shadow among shadows in the nighttime.

The finger scratching his chin abruptly flicked at her. “Touch the bars.”

Belle frowned. “The bars?”

When he nodded, raising his eyebrows in encouragement, she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. She laid one hand on the closest bar and wrapped her fingers around it. The iron was cool and unkind.

“Hmph. Not a fairy.” The man darted forward. He tapped her fingers. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“No, why would—oh, that’s right! Iron hurts fairies.” Another fact she’d read about and forgotten until now. The cage made more sense. It became ten times more awful.

Belle let go of the bar. Her good mood retreated into a sad gaze. “I’m so sorry. The witch captured you, didn’t she?”

The fairy made a displeased noise. “It’s not your business, dearie. Go take some pie and be gone before she wakes up. Off, now. Shoo!”

His fluttering hand annoyed her and utterly failed to make her move. “Why has she done this? If I can find the key, I can get you out.”

“I don’t need help! I can get myself out. And when I do, I’ll make sure that witch pays for what she’s done.” His high bouncing voice dropped to a breathy, grating snarl. It would have frightened Belle if it had been directed at her. That said, she couldn’t blame him.

“Have you any idea where the key is?” she tried.

“Didn’t you hear what I just—”

“I did. If you think it’s because I look too helpless to do anything, you’re wrong.” The tiny woman fastened her hands to her hips. Her forceful expression could have cut as well as any dagger. “Now stop being stubborn and tell me where the key is.”

He had the decency to be flabbergasted before huffing and answering: “It’s probably on her at all times. The witch is many things, but careless isn’t one of them.”

The weight in that remark served as sufficient warning. So Belle believed even as her mind cobbled together a couple wild scenarios involving her and a daring rescue of the key and the fairy, and her mouse friend, too. How could she do anything, though, without seeing the witch for herself? Always letting your fantasies run ahead of your wits, she scolded herself. Actually, those words more fitted her father. As a child, she’d been especially problematic. Maurice’s hair had turned gray all the sooner thanks to her little escapades throughout the castle and its grounds for a taste of freedom. Her small size granted her access to holes and nooks that could make her all but undetectable. The downsides were the same as what she’d suffered since running from home: she was a bite-sized snack for many animals, and locomotion on foot took much longer. At least stealth would be on her side this time, right? How clever could this witch be?

If a fairy had never met the likes of her, Belle dearly hoped his captor was likewise uninformed and unprepared. The more she thought about it, the more her confidence was bolstered. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort something out.”

She was still hungry. Since it was being offered, she fetched a handful of meat stuffing topped with a flake of golden crust. Another handful was brought back to the little cage. Her mouth full, Belle grunted at the bemused fairy to take the portion she slipped into his iron prison.

As she watched him, she was convinced that his skin resembled that of a lizard, particularly its roughness and the wrinkled folds around the neck. But his movements reminded her of a bird or a squirrel. He was stock stiff watching her hand in expectation of a trick. She had no time to react to his dodging forward and grabbing the chunk of meat and crust.

“Why did she leave it out like this?” Belle asked after swallowing her share and feeling her stomach rumble with greedy relief.

The fairy snickered as he chewed more slowly. “Another one of her endearing quirks. Not enough to have me in this filthy trap, utterly powerless. No wand, no magic strong enough to get through the iron. She likes to taunt me with the pie. I refused it earlier, so she left it out beyond my reach. She’s got ingenuity, that one.”

He switched back and forth between faint amusement and a simmering acidity that only the deepest anger could heat. There could be a history there, Belle thought. Now and then he sounded close to impressed with the witch’s sadistic methods, only to swing back to revulsion and hints of vengeful promises. To anger a fairy was serious business. Generally they were helpful to humans, but do them a wrong turn and they’d gladly return the favor. The mouse might have been worried about Belle stumbling upon her dining companion rather than the witch (or both). Nevertheless, she was not the one in dire trouble. The fairy would be in her debt if she won his freedom. A handy thing! And, really, it was a horrible way for anyone to live. Had he been a parakeet or a toad, Belle liked to think her feelings about his predicament would have been starker.

“All the more reason to get you out, then,” she said.

“Sorry, dearie!” the fairy sang mockingly. “She’s not intimidated by mice, or mice-sized maidens.”

“I don’t mean to frighten her. I’ll steal the key before she wakes up.”

The pronounced eyes became slits. He leaned toward her. “What makes you think she’s asleep?” Then his head shot up, again reminding Belle of a bird. His entire body tensed like a bowstring. “Speaking of which, better hide yourself. If she finds you and knows what you’re up to, you’ll only make it worse, understand?”

Belle turned in a circle to catch sight or sound of what the fairy had. For a second, nothing except the rain outside. But a rush of wind hit the cottage by the front door. It rattled. The rain seemed to briefly stop.

“Go!” the fairy barked. His yellow teeth were bared.

Understanding swept over her so fast, so violently that she could have flung herself off the table in a careless effort to climb down. Somehow her feet stayed beneath her as she slid over the edge and shimmied down the table leg. Her spirit wasn’t all in it; a small piece stayed above with the fairy. She had to leave him eventually, whether to steal back the key or hide from the witch. What might the witch do upon her return?

There was no time to wonder. As soon as her feet were on the ground, the injured mouse bounded for her skirt so it could clench the cloth in its buck teeth and tug Belle away. The skirt gave a little rip in their hasty run. She was still unhappy about leaving the caged creature despite his insistence that she let him be.

The howling gust heralding the mistress of the cottage made Belle and the mouse sprint to the hole in the wall they’d entered. She could feel the wind hitting her back when the door swung open. The force of it sent her sprawling into the hole just as the wooden floor creaked with boot-laden steps. Now that they were out of sight, Belle refused to go further. She tucked herself behind the wall but stayed close to the opening to glance out. The mouse scratched his feet on the ground and motioned with his paw down the tunnel. She shook her head. The mouse whined. After fretful deliberation he went off on his own. Belle was sorry, but she had to know what she was up against. The next several minutes were spent standing still, half-peeking into the den of the witch’s cottage, and taking in the giant of a woman who occupied it. What she took to be a trick of the darkness proved very real when the witch waved her hand and set the fireplace to full blaze. Yellow light illuminated green skin contrasted by red hair. When she took off her black hat, she also pulled out the pins holding up the tresses so that they fell around her mink-covered shoulders. She was beautiful in a terrifying way. Had she been ugly, Belle didn’t know if it would have made what she saw next more or less disturbing.

After some primping in front of what had to be a mirror out of Belle’s line of sight, the witch returned and made a sweeping circle around the dining table, eyes locked on the cage resting on it. Red lips parted in a vicious smile. “Well, my pet. Hungry? Watching that pie sit there and go to waste—such a shame.”

From this far away, Belle couldn’t hear the fairy’s answer. She could see only the top section of the cage. That had her more worried. Only the witch could indirectly tell her how he reacted to her bullying.

The green woman dropped the smile in exchange for a childish pout. “Fine. If starvation won’t improve your manners, maybe the rain will.”

She grabbed the cage by its ring handle and swung it up. Belle could now see the fairy fluttering like a frightened moth. His wings buzzed as he tried to fly and take control, but his efforts couldn't save him from being tossed against the bars. She covered her mouth to stop a cry. His body jerked with what had to be agony every time he hit the iron. That wasn’t enough for the witch. Once she let the cage come to rest in her grip, she sauntered to the door and threw it open without touching it. Wind and water came in a torrent. The witch held out the cage. It was immediately bombarded by the elements. The wind kept it swinging, and the rain doused the fairy to the point that his wings couldn’t move properly. He had no choice but to ball up and hope for swift mercy. Belle heard no pleas. Maybe it was impossible to hear them through the weather’s interference.

If he did say anything, none of it satisfied the witch. She was still frowning when she finally pulled him out of the rain. She glared through the bars, no pity in her eyes. A quick smirk danced over her mouth while she pulled the cage close to her face. “You’re just as foolish as your son. I thought you had some brains, at least.”

The cage went back on the table with a clang. The fairy may have muffled a noise of pain, but Belle clearly heard the ringing metal. The bars had a watery shine. Of course this meant the fairy was soaked as well. She had no idea what the effect of that would be. Could fairies catch colds? Hard to imagine as they were magical, immortal beings, but maybe in captivity they were more vulnerable to the mundane dangers of ordinary people. If only she could run across the floor, scramble up the table and tend to his sorry state.

“I expect more cooperation at breakfast,” the witch said with such an airy, arrogant tone that the thumb-sized girl seethed with a rage suited to someone ten times her size.

On that note, the witch sauntered out of sight. Most likely to her room. When could Belle expect the witch to go to sleep? All the energy spent coming to the cottage, helping the mouse, climbing up to the meat pie and meeting a real fairy had left her wearier than she realized. Rest would make her sharp—that was the way to rationalize delay. That poor fairy, though. It wrenched her heart to leave him like that.

It soothed her to glance through the tunnel and see the mouse waiting for her. The sight of him made her smile. Sorrow for the fairy clung to her, however, as she caught up with the mouse, reached into her knapsack and brought out a handful of crust flakes from the meat pie.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked meat,” she explained.

The mouse came back to her. Its pink nose twitched. Getting up on his good hind leg, he stuffed the flakes into his mouth. The responding squeak was a happier one.

“I’m sure there’s more where that came from. Leave it to me, all right?”

The next squeak was more uncertain. Belle ignored his worry, instead petting his head and urging him to lead her to the hideaway in the bowels of the cottage.


	2. Chapter 2

As she was a guest, of sorts, Belle didn't forget the courtesy owed to her rodent friend, nor the aid she wanted to lend to the fairy, regardless of his mulish refusal. The following morning brought new clarity. Above all, she had to be extra careful when venturing through the house. An owl would only eat her; a witch could do far worse. Belle had only to remember what the woman did to the fairy last night.

Down in the cellar, in a cranny in the ceiling, Belle had no idea if it was daytime. Thankfully the mouse was accustomed to activities in the cottage to know when to rouse her. As soon as she was up, she checked the injured leg and the makeshift sling. Her cloak was still holding, although she retied it to keep the ligaments aligned. If it was just a sprain, the mouse would be his old self before long with needed rest. Still not sure if her companion was a real mouse or a cursed person, Belle went ahead and explained how important it was for him to let her do the foraging. She couldn’t help asking about the fairy, mostly to check the mouse’s reaction than to get an intelligible answer. No surprise that the mouse could only squeak and gesture to suggest that she steer clear of the fairy, at best. Fairies were as famous for their trickiness as their helpfulness. Some were considered more on the side of ‘good’, while others not so much.

As long as this one had no nefarious designs against her, Belle was willing to set him free. The witch was far from a just warden. But first, they needed to know the witch’s routine. Belle left the mouse in the straw and cotton bed they used last night. He reluctantly rested after her promises of caution and food. Minus a couple wrong turns, Belle followed the route through cracks and over beams he had shown her. Before her stomach could begin complaining of hunger, she could taste the open air outside the little hole in the wall. She slowed down and listened. Her gut tightened when she heard, and felt, the witch walking around the kitchen. It had to be the kitchen—a draft carried the aromas of baked bread, fresh vegetables and bubbling broth.

Slits of sunlight peeked through the gaps between stone and wood. They lit up the airborne dust. Not much housekeeping in the spaces between walls, but Belle liked the secrecy of this small musty corridor. The smell of breakfast made her long for home, for old comforts she was used to. She stopped next to the mouse hole and peered out for a few seconds. No witch. The cage was still on the table, dry. The fairy must've had a miserable night with his leather clothes all wet—

The witch! Belle spied a black boot before she ducked into hiding. The feet sent out tremors through the floor. She gulped as she imagined being under one of those soles, moments away from death. Despite her pounding heartbeat, she could hear the witch drag a chair and sit down, and set out what was probably a tray. This morning might have mimicked most others: the witch chatted at her prisoner about anything unimportant people usually discussed at breakfast.

“Thought you might like to know there was a rainbow this morning,” she mentioned. “The storm must have stopped just after sunrise. You should have seen it.” When the witch chuckled, Belle dared to peek again. The voice’s false sweetness spurred an anger she had not expected. Her father and Gaston hadn’t made her life easy, but Belle couldn’t recall meeting such blatant vindictiveness. She looked in time to see the witch toss her bright hair off her shoulder. Her brown dress, lined with gold trim, was elegant yet simple, suited for someone who wanted to look their finest while being economical. If she was a witch (judging by that green skin and the way she refilled her cup with a wave of her hand), what kept her from living better? Maybe her powers were not so great. Maybe that was why she had captured the fairy. But the torment she inflicted didn’t make sense. No, this was too little information to go on. Belle had to ask the fairy for details, if he was in the mood to be rescued, let alone make friends.

“You know I’d let you out,” the witch continued, “if you’d see reason.”

There came a soft murmur Belle couldn't understand. It was the fairy’s voice. Whatever he said, it made little impact on his captor. The witch shrugged. “Suit yourself, dearie. I’m trying to be a good hostess.”

If she’d been bigger, Belle would've marched out and pushed over the witch’s chair. And then broken into a panicked run with the cage in her arms. She hated having to keep her indignation repressed. It made her empty stomach even more irritable.

Breakfast ended without further explanation from anyone. Belle closed her eyes and prayed that the witch had plans outside the cottage for the day. Someone must have been listening, or she was luckier than she had reason to believe.

“Don’t get any ideas while I’m gone,” she heard the witch say. There was a brush of heavy fabric being tossed through the air. Belle peered out. The witch had flung on a black cloak lined with fur. She stopped before opening the front door, as though noticing something. Had she—Belle jumped back once more.

“Unless it involves taking up my offer.” The deep, throaty giggle was followed by more footsteps and the door creaking and slamming.

Thank you, gods! Belle waited half a minute, then inhaled deeply and dashed into the room, straight for the table. The mouth-watering smells from the kitchen tempted her, but it was worth saying hello to the fairy and checking the table for scraps. The climb left her winded, but this time she was ready to face the cage and its resident. She quickly unwound the skirt of her dress and smoothed it over her legs as she stood.

“Morning!” she called while stepping around a forgotten teacup and saucer. Delight overtook her on seeing a bowl of sugar cubes, as well as an untouched muffin topped with powdered sugar on a little plate. Did the witch have a sweet tooth, or was this meant for the fairy’s continued suffering? If he wanted it out of sight, she’d gladly oblige him.

Behind the black bars, gold wings flickered. The little body of the man-like creature rose from a fetal pose. He shook his wiry hair and turned toward her. Half-open eyes watched with immense distrust. “You’re still here.”

“I did say I’d help you.” Belle put her all into smiling and being pleasant to brighten the fairy’s dour airs. “Have you eaten? I can get some muffin for you.”

“Don’t you have eyes?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe how foolish she was, which slightly dampened her spirit. “Zelena left it out like this on purpose. If she sees it’s been eaten at all, she’ll assumed I used magic, or that I have an accomplice.”

“Zelena—that’s the witch’s name?”

The fairy sighed. His hand fluttered dramatically. “No, that’s the cow she keeps tied in the back.”

She couldn’t guess what he thought he’d get by being so rude. Belle made her displeasure clear but took his point into consideration. So this was a trick. That muffin looked so good, and it smelled wonderful. The fairy’s poor manners paled next to the witch’s nefarious tactics. “We could make her think mice ate it.”

“There’s not a mouse in this house she hasn’t cursed to stop them from taking food. It’s no palace, and it could use dusting, but she doesn’t let vermin in.”

“Good thing I’m not vermin, then.”

The smile Belle turned on him had an edge of swagger that the fairy was clearly not expecting. With a curious stare, he approached the bars as close as he could without harm. Belle likewise came up to him. The daylight augmented his fantastical appearance. Well, he already cut an unusual figure, but she had not guessed just how scintillating his skin was. Somewhere between green and gold, it sparkled wherever light touched it. He might not have been handsome in the conventional sense, what with the pointy nose, small chin, slim frame and the silver hair growing from the temples. Were all fairies this imp-like? Not that she minded. The wide eyes, grinning crooked teeth and reptilian complexion captured her full attention. It was a much more interesting face than Gaston’s rugged, vacant mug.

“Too pretty to be vermin, too little to be a person,” he mused aloud. “What could you be, strange girl?”

Belle raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m pretty?”

She didn’t think his eyes could look buggier, but they did when the eyelids gaped. His mouth did, too. “Wha—nonsense! It was just an observation!” He swatted his hand toward her to shoo away any thoughts his indiscreet remark was giving her. In short order he looked more his collected and snide self. “I’m sure you’ve heard as much dozens of times. There must be a train of woodland creatures at your beck and call.”

“Hardly.” The notion was so ridiculous Belle didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted. “I’m lucky to be alive. At least you have wings. You can’t imagine how troublesome it is going from place to place on foot while hiding from anything bigger than a rat. Even the rats are frightening.”

“That would explain the state of your clothes,” he said with a smug grin.

He was looking at the ratty hem and the stains. His garments weren’t much better, Belle wryly observed. Sure, leather didn’t dirty as easily as cotton and linen, but they looked rumpled, like he’d been sleeping in them for days. That couldn’t be comfortable.

“Maybe before we make jabs at each other’s wardrobe,” Belle said, “we should get better acquainted. What’s your name?”

The fairy giggled more excitedly than the question deserved. “Why would I give you my name, dearie? Names have power.”

“Do they? Very well. I’ll just make up a name to call you.” Barely able to hold back a smile, Belle sized him up with a choice already in mind. “How about Rumple?”

An incredulous scowl seized the fairy. “What?”

“You’ll be Rumple, and I’ll be … Raggedy Ann. How about that?”

He looked gobsmacked. He stared at her, then at himself, then her again. Slowly he raised a finger and opened his mouth, only to drop the first and snap the other shut. After an awkward pause, he slowly smiled in surprisingly good humor. “You can call me Rumple if I can call you Rags.”

Belle giggled. “Deal! All right, Master Rumple, if we can’t have the muffin, would you like to make a request for the kitchen?”

“Why, Lady Rags, that would be delightful.” The fairy tilted his head toward her, his gaze keen. “But what’s in it for you?”

“I’m getting food for myself, so it’s no trouble. Oh, I met a mouse with a bad leg, so he needs food, too. I double as intrepid adventurer and intrepid maid.”

“An intrepid adventuring maid? I’ve finally seen everything.”

“Wait to say that after I bring you the key!”

Had she only promised to feed the locked-up fairy for a week, it still would have proved a challenge to her wits and strength. For that morning, and for several mornings to follow, Belle darted like a sparrow over the expansive floor between the mouse hole in the den and the kitchen’s threshold, using chairs and a chest as hiding spots in case of a suspicious presence. These breakfast excursions were always conducted when she knew Zelena was away from home. The small woman thought ahead to the chance that the witch might not go out on some days, so she stocked up on extra pieces of bread, cheese and fruit in the mouse’s lair. Rumple, on the other hand, had no place to conceal his surplus, so he had to keep his grit on the occasional day Zelena remained in the cottage stewing up a potion and devoting extra time to his company.

Food wasn’t everything to Belle, of course. After that basic need was satisfied, she stole a few hours exploring the cottage. A lost fork or nail or spool of thread became tools for her surveying. Exercising ingenuity, as her mother encouraged her to when she was alive, she tackled tall furniture with more ease. She taught herself to treat one nail as a sword, a pick-axe, a chisel, and a foothold, and a discarded handkerchief became insurance in the event that she fell from a fatal height. Zelena was mostly mindful of cleaning the house with self-automated brooms and sponges; nevertheless, Belle could found neglected pieces of rubbish that no broom bristles could reach.

Her greatest accomplishments were without question the steps she helped the mouse take on his injured leg each day. Little by little, the sprain mended and the creature’s strength in that limb returned. He grew less frantic about being cared for as well, and Belle enjoyed feeding him from a dish, which was really a chip from a teacup she had knocked over by accident. Gods, that fumble had given her a fright! It had happened on the dining table with Rumple watching. She had expected ridicule or an angry lecture about her clumsiness. Instead, he made a quip about taking the blame for the cup—it was just a cup, after all. To her admonishment, he did tell Zelena that he broke the cup, for when Belle next went to visit him with goodies from the kitchen, there was a heavy black cloth covering the cage. It didn’t bar her from seeing him, fortunately, but his skin didn’t glitter so nicely in the thick shadow.

“It was my fault,” she said sadly midway through her blueberry. Her sinking stomach was thwarting her appetite. “I should’ve been more careful.”

“Nevermind that,” Rumple said after taking a bite from his own blueberry. “The dark suits me just fine!”

There was more to it than that. Belle rested her chin in her hand as she contemplated her failure so far in retrieving the key. After a week’s worth of climbing, crawling and scrounging, she knew the cottage was, in total, one den, one kitchen, and one bedroom that doubled as a laboratory for Zelena’s magical craft. Belle couldn’t help envying the bookshelf that lined one wall all the way across. She craved the days of sitting with her mother in her bedroom alcove, using the sunlight to read the huge pages and admire the delicate illustrations. She could never pick up a book by herself, and now there was no one to help. She’d done her best with the makeshift pamphlets scrawled in her own hand containing her favorite and best memorized stories. It wasn’t the same as reading something new, though. Her longing sometimes distracted her from her quest to free the fairy, and that drove in the dagger of guilt while she sat beneath the black canopy, wedged between cloth and metal. Rumple ate his breakfast without complaint.

She could be selfish. Books were treasures, but what could be more precious than freedom? As she never found the key lying around, nor in any box, Belle guessed she must have it on her person in a pocket or on a chain.

“Does Zelena seem to sleep soundly?” she asked.

Rumple paused before wiping his mouth. “No idea. She goes to bed late and gets up early. That’s all I’m sure of. Why?”

That it was such a small window of opportunity complicated the issue. Belle couldn’t it let her deter it. “Maybe I’ll go see for myself.” She didn’t want him to worry, so she feigned calm.

There again, he stared widely while his brows drew down in tight furrowed lines. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She unconsciously bunched some of her skirt in her hands. “Nothing. Just that—”

“Don’t even think about it.” He sounded like her father again. While Maurice never wagged a finger at her, she could practically hear him echoing Rumple’s words. “No sense getting yourself caught or squished!”

“Don’t you want to be free?”

“Well, of course! And I will handle it!”

“You know that’s not true!” Belle jumped to her feet. Her voice cracked with anger, but her expression held more than fury. “How long have you been here? How long can you expect to wait while Zelena treats you like this? I know we barely know each other, but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer! It isn’t right!”

The fairy gave no answer. He just stood, stunned and dumb. He looked as though no one had said such a thing to him before. Belle bit her lip and squeezed the bars in front of her. “Is there anyone coming to save you? I can’t leave if it means leaving you alone.”

Rumple lifted his hands. “Why do you care? I’ve done nothing for you.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.” If she were honest, he already had done something. Were she to tell him what that was, he’d probably call her silly and shallow. So she swallowed down the truth. “Let me help you. Please, Rumple.”

He was gifted in donning wry or grotesque expressions like they were masks. Here and now, none appeared. His face was stripped naked. For the first time his wide eyes were soft. His lips parted and relaxed. In a moment of inexplicable intrigue, Belle glanced at those lips. They looked human underneath the scales and sparkles. It was a strange thing to notice, and right away Belle dropped her gaze to the cage's floor.

He didn’t even have straw in there to cushion him during sleep. How did he sleep at all? Did fairies need rest?

“There must be something you want,” he whispered. His own gaze drifted down, too.

“I only want you to be okay,” Belle whispered back.

He looked up. His eyelids and mouth twitched as he considered what she said. If only she could be on the other side, hold his face and show him that she meant every word.

“L-let’s make a deal,” he said. “I’ll let you know when she goes to bed, but only if you give your word to be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.” After shaking her head, Belle smiled to give both of them courage.

“Very well.” Dancing fingers curled into a fist, which he pulled close to his chest. “How is your mouse friend’s leg?”

“Much better. He doesn’t need to wear my cape as a sling anymore, which is good for both of us!”

“Good, good.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “Then send him down, if he can manage. I’ll give a signal at the optimal moment.”

It was tempting to say it wasn’t necessary to bring the mouse into the fray, but she could see his logic. If she was positioned to go into the bedroom, the mouse could provide a line of communication between Rumple and her. “Sounds good. But how will you know when the time is right?”

A naughty grin returned. “One of my secret fairy powers. I can see into other rooms, although not as well as when I’m out of the cage.”

So that was how he knew Zelena was outside the cottage that first night. Belle narrowed her eyes. “Just how far does this special vision go?”

Rumple pressed his hand over his heart and gasped. “Lady Rags, you’re not accusing me of indecency, are you?”

“Have I a reason to?” Belle had recently succeeded in washing her underwear and dress (not that it stopped Rumple from calling her Rags) in the kitchen sink. It hardly mattered to her if it was a breach of hygiene. She did care if the fairy had been stealing glimpses without her knowledge. The most disconcerting thing was the heat blooming beneath her under-dress, and that she didn’t know if the cause was embarrassment or something else.

“Certainly not.” Rumple’s voice was too flippant to be credible. He must have heard it as well. In a lower register he added, “Humans hold little interest to fairies in that respect.”

Belle’s shoulders fell in relief. The half-frown might have betrayed disappointment. “I was led to believe that fairies were the most beautiful creatures in the realm.”

“The untainted ones, perhaps.” Deviousness glinted in his gaze. “I guess I’ve given myself away now.”

Untainted? So fairies could be corrupted. Belle examined his appearance anew. If the lizard-like skin suggested he’d turn dark, it wasn’t the worse thing. “You’re not ugly, if that’s what you mean.”

Rumple snickered. “Indeed not. The other fairies swoon at the sight of me.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” She read into the double-meaning and rebuffed it with a wink. It left Rumple sufficiently stymied and with no reply other than an embarrassed “nyeh”. Belle widened her smile. “Maybe after I get you free, you can take me to your realm and give me a tour. If what you say is true, I want to see it for myself. It’ll be a good laugh.”

He smiled at that, and with more than amusement. The softness returned. Yet instead of melancholy it emitted pure radiance—and Belle’s pulse started racing. Her fingertips tingled. The heat under her blouse reached her cheeks. “Uh, I, um—I should go, I think. My other friend is waiting for his breakfast.” Belle stashed her bundle of crumbs and berries into her knapsack. “See you tonight?”

“If we’re lucky,” Rumple said.

She nodded. Yes, they would need luck. And great care. She prayed for one and kept the other at the front of her thoughts as she hurried down the table leg. A hasty trip to the witch’s bedroom refreshed her memory of its dimensions.


	3. Chapter 3

Long after night had fallen, Zelena came back. This time black covered her from head to toe. As soon as the witch was inside the cottage, Belle moved away from the hole in the wall. Her mouse friend sat beside her. His pink ears perked up. His leg was all but healed, although Belle insisted that he not run on it yet.

She had already rolled out a long length of thread. She’d tied it to a protruding nail near the hole, and the other end was wrapped around her wrist. Now that Zelena was home, it wouldn’t be long before Belle would need to dash to her post. A couple days ago, as they built strength in his leg and examined the crawlspace under the bedroom, the mouse spotted a loose floorboard. It gave just enough so Belle could squeeze through the opening. However, it meant she would have a limited vantage point before entering the room. Now they had all the pieces to the problem: Rumple’s see-through vision, Belle’s size to slip between the boards, the length of string, and the mouse ready to tug it.

There was no hurry right now. Belle sat and listened while Zelena prepared dinner and set her plate on the table. No second plate clanked with it—new tactics tonight. Belle was in a better state of conscience since she’d started sneaking food to the fairy twice a day, aside from two days when Zelena stayed home. But it did worry her that the witch might've caught on to her prison’s stauncher spirits.

At first, Zelena sounded more interested in sharing anecdotes about her dealings with the locals, who largely despised the queen ruling them. Belle had forgotten that she was not in her own land. Zelena waited a long time before mentioning the queen’s name, but it meant nothing to Belle. What she mentioned toward the end of dinner did.

“In light of what’s happened—like that princess Regina’s so hell-bent on destroying—I might not need your help, after all.” A pause. “Well? Aren’t you thrilled?”

By now Belle had learned to listen for Rumple’s voice this far away. It was still too muffled to understand. It no less comforted her to hear him holding his own rather than be intimidated into silence.

“If my sister is on the verge of ruining her own happiness or turning the kingdom against her, it puts my goal all the more within my reach. However … there’s still the matter of your son.”

The revelation bewildered Belle; the witch had a sister, and that was why Rumple was in her power? She couldn’t imagine what complicated history had brought Zelena to these circumstances. Nor did she feel inclined to dwell on it, as she was reminded of a matter closer to her concerns. _I never asked him about his son_ , she thought. The topic sounded like a painful one. Her fear that Rumple might shut down at the mention of his child made her avoid it. Now she realized that his son was resting at the heart of the problem. She should not have let fear dictate her actions like that. Shame and a longing to know about this mysterious child agitated her.

There was a lull in conversation. Then Rumple’s small voice responded, deeper than before.

“Nice try,” Zelena said. “Don’t think I don’t know how desperate you are to see him. Funny, since you’ve not been the most attentive father. Can’t be easy to be a parent and a selfish devil of a fairy at the same time.”

Belle hated the purr in the witch’s timbre. She also dreaded to wrap her head around what she said. That Rumple gave no immediate fierce answer left her wondering just what his life had been like before his abduction. Was there truth behind Zelena’s taunt?

“Poor Baelfire. Must be very hard for him. I can sympathize. You’ve made more of an effort than my father ever did, but still, you and he might as well be separate species. You’ll never understand each other, never really be part of the other’s world.”

Silence answered her. Belle’s heart sank.

“You see, that’s why it makes more sense this way. If you simply agreed to my deal, we could both get what we want. You’ll have your son _and_ you’ll enjoy all the benefits of vast power beyond what you or I could achieve alone. Is that such a terrible fate?”

Rumple did reply, and the forceful push behind the inaudible words revived Belle’s faith that she hadn’t misjudged him. He had said that he could get free on his own—maybe he was referring to the deal Zelena kept dangling like a carrot. He must have been pursuing a loophole as his escape. He certainly wouldn’t trade the physical cage for a metaphorical one.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve suddenly grown a conscience, dearie. As if being good has ever benefited you. We’re two of a kind, and the sooner you realize that, the more pleasant your life is going to be.”

When no response came from Rumple this time, Belle did not fret. Not much. He had to avoid rousing suspicion by being too recalcitrant or too compliant. Yet she was not ready to dismiss the likelihood that he might do unthinkable things to protect his son.

Rumple and the witch’s conversation went dead. During the lull, Belle regarded the mouse. “Do you know who Baelfire is?” she whispered. “The fairy’s son?”

The mouse scratched around his mouth. When he squeaked, it wasn’t a clear yes or no. He must not have been sure, but perhaps …

“I wish we knew for sure.” Belle petted the mouse in thanks. “If we could protect his son, Zelena won’t have anything to hold over him.”

The mouse didn’t look convinced. Then again, mice didn’t have very readable faces. Belle left the subject alone. They waited quietly as Zelena cleared her dishes. Nothing was left on the table near the cage. They waited more. She snuffed out the fire in the hearth with a plume of green smoke, covered Rumple’s cage, and finally retired to her room. Belle’s heart jumped into her throat. She jumped to her feet, checked the thread on her wrist, nodded to the mouse, and bolted down the corridors. Her hands clenched her skirts. She and her friend had measured the thread, so Belle was confident that it was long enough. Panic spiked only when the boards overhead started creaking. It was like chasing a giant who could smash through the floor and crush her with one well aimed boot. The narrow walls brushing her elbows heightened her anxiety. She breathed harder. There was no room to maneuver or escape. Not until she met the hole that led her into one of the crawlspaces. Unlike the first one she saw her first night, there was still wood beneath her tiny feet instead of earth. Her greatest obstacles were dust bunnies and the random copper coin that had fallen through the cracks.

It was lightless, making it difficult to spy the loose board she needed. The thread became handy for two reasons thanks to its precise length. When Belle felt the string squeeze hard around her wrist, she knew to go no further. Along the end of her rope she followed an arc toward the desired position. Looking up, she saw a hollowed knot in the wood that matched the one to the right of the unsecured plank. In the gloom, its vague outline reminded her of a new moon. A slight change of color inside the circle coincided with Zelena’s foot stepping down right over Belle.

The groaning wood fueled her gruesome fantasy. But Belle held her breath, refusing to cry or gasp. More boards squeaked and bowed. Her arms were covered in goosebumps.

Then the steps moved away, loud but not close enough to endanger her.

Belle exhaled slowly, relieving her sore lungs. She eased into a seated pose. No telling how long this vigil would last. She listened to the noises and imagined Zelena tinkering at her potions table or browsing her library, or maybe performing her ablutions before bed. What went through that woman’s mind while she washed her green face in the mirror? Did any regret touch her heart? What did she want through her sister’s downfall or in an alliance with Rumple? Why did she elicit enjoyment out of hurting the fairy? Belle was wholly inclined to hate Zelena, damn the reasons the witch may have had for her cruelty. In the unrelenting silence, however, she heard her mother’s voice.

“People are not characters in your books, my love. Just as you don’t want to be judged for your size, you mustn’t judge others by what they outwardly do or look like. You can’t know what’s in a person’s heart until you truly know them.”

There was much she didn’t know about Zelena. There was much she didn’t know about Rumple. She didn’t even know his real name.

It was possible that Rumple could be just as cruel to others, though not to her. Maybe there was someone Zelena cared for as Rumple did his son. She couldn’t know while hiding under a floor and putting her faith in a fairy who declared himself corrupted. Right then, curled up in the dark, Belle felt incredibly small. And worse, naïve.

For all her reading, there was so little she truly knew about the world.

Another voice in her heart spoke up. She may not have known much, but she knew right from wrong. She knew injustice when she saw it. She knew kindness. Rumple had not put on a show. He was adamant at first about her not risking her safety for him. It might have been a trick. Might have. But …

She sank into a bottomless well of meditation that found no answers—just more murkiness. Clarity was lost. Faith shuddered at the roots. What should she—

There was no telling when the footsteps stopped. When the thread tugged at her wrist, she realized it was very quiet above. Her thoughts snapped into focus. Despite the weight of doubt in her chest, she stood. She untied the knot, then as carefully as possible pushed the floorboard and pulled herself up. Once she had the key, she’d have access to the truth.

The map of the witch’s bedroom in her mind did its best to match the shady shapes around her. The bed was easiest. Reluctant as she was to start there, it made the most sense if Zelena kept the key near her at all times. Either she slept with it, or it was on her nightstand. Belle followed the bed's length to the small square table. She bundled up her skirts and tucked them into her new belt. The same belt held two nails for climbing, and more thread held a nail file strapped to her back. But she saw the quilt hanging down within her reach, which would make the climb faster. No, it might have woken Zelena. She sighed and pulled out the nails.

One dented table leg later, Belle hoisted herself over the top with more skill and energy than when she arrived a week ago. Using the file, she started wedging the nightstand’s drawer open with the knob. It started fine. The drawer came out half a centimeter—only to slide and make a sharp noise that turned her still as stone. Her eyes flew to Zelena. The witch was facing her, eyes shut and body relaxed. Belle couldn’t shake her stiffness as she straightened, barely holding on to the file. After a few deep breaths, she tried again, this time with the file wedged in the drawer.

It was slower going this time. Once it was an inch open, Belle set the file down and gingerly lowered herself into the opening. Her belly just made it through the gap. The drawer was dark, of course, so her hands did the searching. They found something with a metallic ring handle. Her breath hitched. The fingers followed a long neck to a set of teeth made for a lock. She got it! The key!

Taking it in a firm grip, Belle hardly noticed her other hand move and feel yet another metal object of similar shape. She checked it. Her smile faded. Another key. When she picked it up, something dragged with it. There was also a tug at the first key. A chain linked them. Not just two, but three. No, four.

Four keys.

This couldn’t be right. Zelena might have owned keys for cabinets or lock boxes, but to keep the key for Rumple’s cage among the rest seemed careless. Or the perfect diversion. Belle bit her lip as she frantically mulled over what to do. She could check quickly if the witch was wearing any key now. If not, she’d go with what she had and hope for the best.

Her stomach was nearly sick from fear and disappointment. She hugged her middle for a minute and took more deep breaths. Come on. She could do this. Even if Rumple had manipulated her—no, he hadn’t. He hadn’t asked for her help. She had made the choice, and it would stay that way.

The keys on the chain stayed behind while Belle exited the drawer and stood on the nightstand. Her vision was adjusting to the darkness. Against the slender green neck, something did seem to cut a line across Zelena’s skin. Might have been a hair. Might have been a chain to locket. Belle couldn’t tell from this far away. She couldn’t stop her knees from shaking.

Just do it! Deep breath. Clenched teeth. She was still shaking. It was like facing a gorge she was supposed to jump into. Death felt imminent. It repulsed her, but it drew her toward it, too. Life, death—

One, two, three. Three steps. She left the table and felt nothing but air. The quilt and the feather-stuffed mattress under it embraced her. Her blood was overflowing with those electric pulses that didn’t let her savor the safe landing. She got up. She shuffled over the quilt to avoid Zelena’s hidden hands and other extremities while also looking at her neck. It wasn’t just hair. It was a chain, and something weighed it down. Whatever it was, the neckline of her nightgown hid it.

It was madness to keep going. She must have been mad, then. As light as she could, Belle tiptoed to the shoulder Zelena was sleeping on for a better look. Her sweaty hands reached for the nail file on her back. No! That’s right, she left it on the nightstand! It had to be one of the nails, which weren’t long enough to reach without leaning. Lean she did, touching some of the witch’s hair. Prudence won over emotion in using the head-end of the nail instead of the tip to catch the edge of her nightgown and tug just a bit to see the …

The black iron was a sisterly match to the cage. Right there, around Zelena’s neck, nestled just above her now slanted cleavage thanks to her sleeping position.

She didn’t know how she held herself together. Something simply prevented Belle from despairing. Her mind envisioned the clasp that must be on the other side, hidden under mounds of red hair. Cold fear became flushed exhaustion, and still she pressed forward. Up onto the pillow, a squishy hill that barely redeemed its frustrating contours with a rather fun slide down the opposite side. Her skin crawled as she penetrated the forest of carrot-top locks. At least it had a clean smell. In the heat radiating from the witch’s nape, Belle unearthed the chain’s clasp like a long-lost idol. She pulled at the lock. The loop came free. She nearly laughed. Now to just pull up the chain. Just grab and run.

Her feet were ready to go, but as she pulled she already knew the key wasn’t coming with it. Her mother once lost a pendant that slipped off its chain when she removed it from her throat. The goosebumps were partly gone. Sweat trickled down Belle’s back. If she could just get the other side of the chain, she could—

Everything moved at once. Everything, like the whole world was suddenly spinning in the reversed direction at double the speed. Through the hair, the outline of a huge hand clamped around her arms, chest and legs. Even then Belle gripped the chain. She bit back a scream until the hand lifted her up and another pulled the red hair free from its partner’s hold.  
The small hope that her screech might frighten the witch shattered when she met Zelena’s eyes. They were greenish-blue and all-encompassing. They grew even wider.

“Well! This wasn’t what I expected! I mean, the key thing I guessed right on, but I figured the insect had some fellow fairy coming to save him. Or a ferocious rat. You are too cute.”

There was no pity, no sympathy in those huge eyes, and Belle had none to give back. She bucked, thrashed, kicked, made every possible movement that might loosen Zelena’s grip or let her inflict harm. The witch laughed.

“Did he put you up to this? Let me guess: he shrank you down, and now you have to free him to reverse the curse?”

“You put me down right now!” Belle hollered, despite knowing it was useless.

Zelena pouted and hummed. “Sorry, little one. Afraid I must put an end to your noble quest. But, as a reward for your bravery, I’ll let you have it out with him before I kill you.”

She didn’t know what the witch meant by “have it out with him,” but the last part was so clear Belle lost all words. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes were wide and growing wet. No, it couldn’t end like this! She’d come so far!

The next few seconds throttled Belle into terrible childhood flashes: girls picking her up like a doll against her tear-stained pleas; her father scooping her up too quickly when anxiety caught him in a careless moment; Gaston doing to same when he regarded any small danger a deathly threat to his fiancée. She wanted to cry, scream, vomit, faint. The world hardly made sense this high up in Zelena’s fist until she saw the covered cage rapidly approaching. She should have guessed what was coming; rather than shrink away, she leaned down to see Rumple when the cloth was snatched off. He was already standing. The cloth, the walls and the darkness had not stopped him from seeing everything.

“A valiant effort!” Zelena declared in sing-song mockery. “I don’t know how you did it, but you got her all the way to my bedroom. To my neck! Very impressive. Too bad she didn’t know the price she would pay for it.” Her sneering expression turned on Belle. “Or are you just that stupid?”

Belle was close making herself vomit just so it would get on Zelena’s hand. It was all she could do to avenge herself and Rumple.

The witch looked at Rumple again. “I know it’s been hard for you being without your son. Being without anyone, except yours truly. I had hoped we could reach some arrangement.” Her second glance at Belle was a cursory one. “I was just going to crush her. What use is she to either of us now, after all? But a little mercy can go a long way. So …”

She opened her hand. Belle barely stumbled a step before green smoke filled her sight. A few heartbeats later the smoke was replaced by bars and a view of Zelena’s waist. The witch crouched to meet Belle’s eye-level. “Enjoy her tonight, my dear. Tomorrow morning I’ll dispose of her. Make the most of it. Nighty-night.”

The black veil covered the cage. Bare feet padded on the floorboards, and a door slammed. That was all.

Every inch of her was being pulled down, heavy as iron. Yet Belle was too awake and aware to faint. Her head wasn’t light, but rather burning and ringing and gods what had she done? How … why … ?

“R-rags?”

Rags. It wasn’t her name, but she answered to it. She looked at Rumple and wondered if he was mocking her. Nothing in his face suggested it. He came close to her but kept his hands to himself, like he did with the iron bars. “Are you all right?”

Belle had to keep her mouth open a long moment before any sound would come out. “Am I … I … oh gods. Oh, Rumple!”

She had no strength left to question her trust in him, or when exactly she started to trust him. The tears came. He was there. She needed something to hold on to in case her legs gave up. Not only did he let her grab his arms, but he stepped into her forward stumble. He also propped her up and let her feet rediscover their center of gravity.

The salt water running from her eyes was hot, which was almost nice. It felt like life. Something she abruptly had very little left of. But his hand on her cheek and his fingers wiping them away felt even nicer.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she blurted out. “I was so stupid! But she had it on her neck. I hadn’t noticed before. I tried … I just couldn’t do it. You were right. Now … I’m never going to see my family again. You won’t get to be with your boy. I …”

She ran out of words. Her desire to stay standing ran out. She dropped down with Rumple holding her upper arms to slow down the descent. When they were both kneeling on the floor, she was composed enough to let him go and tug her skirt out of her belt. What a ridiculous display she must have been! Stupid, helpless girl. Pea-sized nobody with her foolish dreams of heroism.

Neither she nor the fairy had anything to say for a while. She needed the time for tears. That he understood made her grateful and more miserable. She mourned his fate, but it was she who would die tomorrow, and she was entirely to blame. More “sorry”s spilled out.

“Stop, please,” Rumple said gently.

She shook her head. “I can’t. Why does everything I do backfire? Why am I so pathetic?”

“Enough.” His fingertips cradled her chin. She let him lift her gaze to his face. “Is this how you want to spend your final hours?”

Belle half-choked on a sob. She shook her head.

“If you want to talk about pathetic, look no further.” The fairy raised two fingers and wiggled them. “I got trapped in this cage with all my magic at my disposal.”

“She used your son against you, didn’t she?”

His surprised expression needed no explanation. Belle followed with, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask about him. I didn’t want to cause more pain.”

“It’s all right. We neither of us were being very forth right.” His lips twitched into an itty-bitty smile.

“Hey, I was ready to tell you my name.” But not much else, she silently admitted. Now he was going to be the last person she ever knew. So much she never got to do, to experience for the first time …

Her eyes found their way to the fairy’s lips. Heat crept up her spine.

“And you’d expect the same in return, I suspect.” The teasing in his voice rapidly switched to confusion. “Or … maybe something else?”

Belle licked her lips without thinking. She returned his gaze. Somewhere between breaths, she leaned in close enough to taste the heat of his mouth. Although she blushed at her forwardness, she didn’t pull back. She waited for him to object, even though her body was as taut as a fiddle string with anticipation and some desperation.

He didn’t inch back. She did feel his breathing quicken. A glimpse at his eyes showed disbelief all around, but thank goodness not revulsion. She could have sobbed from that. A smile bloomed for a second as she let her nose graze his, then finally went the rest of the way. Her lips sealed over his. She shivered hard. She did feel scales. Tasted them. The texture and flavor made her tingle everywhere. The seconds stretched out and her hands came up without warning to first cup the rest of his face, then to wrap around the back of his neck. Long-nailed fingertips gently held her at the shoulder blades. When they added a little pressure she instantly leaned further into the kiss.

The collar of his coat was tall and rigid and it blocked her from feeling more of his hair. Once she knew just how soft that wild mane was, having anything in her way was unacceptable. While she was combing through what she could reach and contemplating whether to ask him to take off the coat or just push it off herself, a buzzing noise and a breeze disrupted her. She opened her eyes. She moaned in surprise as she withdrew from Rumple. The fairy’s eyes stayed closed for longer but slowly parted, dazed and questioning.

“Are you all right?” Belle cracked a grin. “Your wings . . .”

His wings were fluttering behind him, like he was about to fly off. The most fascinating thing was the golden dust that stirred up around his wings when they flapped. They were like fire sparks, but purely gold in color. The actual wings were more illuminated, too. Gods, had she ever really thought he wasn’t beautiful?

As soon as he was aware of what was happening over his shoulder, he forced his wings to stop. They remained upright for an extra second before folding down like a pair of fans. He cleared. “I, uh, can’t imagine what caused that.”

Belle trusted she didn’t sound hysterical in her giggling. She needed to laugh right now. Better than to grieve. She swept her hands down his arms. “Can’t imagine at all. Maybe you’re tense.” She shyly eyed his coat and pinched the sleeves. “Maybe you’d like to take this off. Before going to sleep.”

If he had any reservations, he set them aside to follow her advice. He looked just as shy, though, prompting her to be the bolder one and help him tug the hefty leather down his arms. Soon she could see the slit running from one shoulder blade to the other that let his wings move about. She was especially careful with them while getting him free of the coat. Once it was off, she took the initiative to lay it on the ground beside them, then to unlace the front of her dress.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Rumple sounded so innocent sometimes. It required great effort to remind herself he probably wasn’t.

“Making a pillow,” she said. One the laces were loose, she pulled the blue garment over her head. There was her corset and undershirt to preserve her modesty, more or less. Anyone in her father’s court would have been scandalized at her actions, her father especially. Even in the context of his imagined disapproval, her heart clenched knowing they’d never have a chance to reconcile. It was callous to leave home the way she had. Gaston and her father’s refusal to listen to her wishes had made it necessary to get away, but maybe she should have tried harder to talk things out. If only she could live long enough to curb her impulses in future.

For now, her impulsiveness was paying off. She pretended her face wasn’t warm with the feeling of Rumple’s eyes on her underclothes. Quickly she folded her dress in a fluffy bundle and laid it on his coat. Then she looked at him. “Shall we?”

Rumple observed the very simple bed. His fingers rubbed together without his apparent awareness. “Ah … lying down is a bit awkward for me.”

“You mean your wings. Does it help to lie on your stomach?”

“I-I suppose.”

Belle wrapped her fingers around his fidgeting hand. “It’s only for one night. I’ll try to make it comfortable for you.”

She moved into a reclining position and pulled him with her. Her breath shuddered as Rumple caught on and crawled above her. His vest was scaly leather, too. But she now could reach his hair and neck, so she said nothing. If it wasn’t comfortable for him, he’d let her know.

His weight resting on her was a new thing, but as they relaxed it grew natural. Her fingers massaging his scalp and nape lured him into cradling his head in the crook of her neck. His sigh against her skin made her shiver. As though copying her fingers, his own stroked her bare arm up and down. The quiet moment brought a prickle of tears to her eyes—not solely sad, but moved by this simple pleasure.

“Rumplestiltskin,” he murmured.

Belle breathed in sharply from his breath and lips unintentionally teasing her. She nearly missed what he said. “What?”

“That’s my name. Rumplestiltskin.”

The word took several seconds to gain traction. Belle gawked at the cage’s roof. “Are you serious?”

She could feel him smiling. “On my honor, whatever that counts for. I almost had a fit when you called me Rumple.”

Belle laughed. It resonated from her chest, deep and heartfelt. Rumplestiltskin chuckled in harmony with her.

“Mine is Belle. I’ll kind of miss you calling me Rags, though.”

“Belle. Suits you quite well.” He nuzzled her lightly, making her tingle and ache.

“W-well, it was almost something worse. My mother told me she and Father considered naming me Thumbellina. I suppose at the time I really was the size of a thumb, but I’m well beyond that.”

“Absolutely. Surely you’re two-thumbs tall by now.”

She slapped him on the arm. Rumple raised his head and kissed her on the cheek. Smiling, she rolled her head to him first to touch her nose to his, then her lips to his.  
“Luckily, my mother thought better of it and shortened it to Belle,” she finished.

They enjoyed a quiet moment, but Rumple grew pensive. “Belle,” he said hesitantly, “am I the first person you’ve met who’s—well, your size?”

Oh, no. She’d thought they could avert this topic. Rumple was too sharp to miss it. She nipped her lip. “Yes.”

“Is that why you wanted so much to help me?”

“It’s—it’s one reason. One big reason.” She shut her eyes. “I’m sorry. It was selfish.”

When she felt his nails brush back her hair, she dared to look at him. There was no reproach in his expression. If anything, there was more understanding and empathy than she'd ever seen in another person. She could have teared up again.

“I can’t say I don’t appreciate it. I only wish—”

She lay her hand on his so that it pressed on her cheek. “Don’t wish for anything. Just—just hold me. Please.”

He looked so sad and oddly surprised by her words, but he acquiesced. He moved down a bit so she could tuck her head against his shoulder while he did the same with her. One of his arms wrapped around her waist. She locked her hands behind his back and even overlaid her leg on his. He smelled like an untamed field of tall grass, as well as leather and a pleasantly acrid scent that might have been magic. She fell asleep in the embrace of his aroma and warmth and secretly preferred that Zelena kill her before she woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

She couldn’t figure out what or who was moving. There was a rocking motion that made her stomach roll over. An inexplicable flapping sound surrounded them. The cloth was still on the cage, so she couldn’t see anything outside their confines. Belle felt Rumple sit up with her and hold her firmly against him.

“Zelena?” Belle called.

“Shh!” Rumple said. “It’s not her.”

“It’s not? Who, then?”

“It’s …”

Had he finished the sentence, Belle could understand his hesitance to explain. Lucky for him he didn’t have to. The cloth dropped, like it had been tossed away. Above them, two ravens were hovering as best they could. Each clasped the cage’s handle in their tough beaks and lifted it together. Belle covered her mouth just as a frightened cry left her throat. Maybe it was better to be kidnapped by ravens than face Zelena’s wrath, unless the ravens were part of her plan.

Disoriented by the sudden elevation as the ravens succeeded in picking up the cage, Belle nevertheless saw the cottage windows. The gray pall that preceded dawn was creeping in.

“What’s going on?” she asked Rumple in a loud whisper, which he somehow heard over their beating wings that carried them.

“How should I know?” he said shrilly.

“Don’t you know if they’re working for Zelena?”

The cage stopped moving up and started moving in a particular direction. Right for the fireplace, in fact. “Maybe,” he muttered, “if she’s planning to have us for breakfast.”

“She didn’t say she’d kill you!” Belle frantically pointed out.

“The fire won’t kill me. It will just make it possible for me to watch very closely.”

Oh, gods! It seemed to be going that way, and Belle was on the brink of losing her mind with terror. That is, until she realized that the logs in the hearth weren’t lit. Zelena had put them out last night, and they were still cold. Perhaps she was going to taunt them further before setting the lumber and the cage ablaze. But why the elaborate display with the ravens?

That’s when she saw the hook. As the ravens entered the wide fireplace, they resumed hovering but didn’t drop down to set the cage on the logs. With quick jerks and turns that made the girl and the fairy cling harder to one another, the birds maneuvered the cage’s handle until it settled on the large iron hook. Belle could see many strands of thread knotted at the hook’s base where a nail would otherwise go. The ravens flew up the chimney, leaving the cage to dangle. Seconds later, the line began hoisting them up.  
Belle’s mouth fell open. “This … this is …”

“It can’t be,” said Rumple. “Who knew we were here?”

They didn’t dare say another word. With every upward thrust, they had to steady themselves against the cage’s floor and each other’s weight. By the time the cage reached the top of the chimney, they were lying down on Rumple’s coat, propped on their elbows to better see the square of brightening sky. The cage came to a stop at the chimney’s cusp. The ravens reappeared to seize the cage. They were air-lifted once more, and now Belle could see who had assembled this rescue mission. A line of mice, rats and squirrels were standing along the length of the string. And there was her mouse, her friend, at the forefront waving at her!

“I can’t believe it!” Belle choked with ecstatic relief.

She felt Rumple reaffirm his hold on her waist. “We’re not out just yet.”

The ravens swooped down from the cottage roof, knocking the cage off the hook in their haste. They were rolling, headed straight for the ground. The angle of descent sent the captives sliding down the floor toward the bars. Belle moved as fast as she could to reach the bars first. When Rumple followed, her tired body became a buffer between him and the iron. The momentary pain of impact and the comical tangle of their limbs were overshadowed by the hard thunk of the cage hitting the ground. Not a graceful landing for anyone, except the ravens who swooped up into a nearby tree.  
This time Rumple served as the impact cushion for Belle’s body when the cage finally came to rest. Her head was on his chest, and frankly she was no inclined to get up yet.

“For the gods’ sake,” Rumplestitlskin muttered. “Belle, are you all right?”

She mumbled ‘yes’ into his vest. Actually, the pain aside, that was an exhilarating escape. But the pain made it significantly less thrilling. She rolled off Rumple and immediately apologized as she realized he was lying on his back. He rolled over, too. She checked his wings. No notable damage, thank goodness. They were finally catching their breath and helping each other to their feet—that’s when the growl came.

Belle stiffened. “What was—?”

Rumplestiltskin cursed.

Something big, dark and furry was coming toward them from the dense grove surrounding the cottage. In seconds it stepped into view. A black bear. Its eyes were as dark as midnight. Its teeth in the gaping mouth were no more inviting.

“What the hell sort of friend is this mouse?!” Rumple exclaimed. “Setting us up to be eaten!”

“I’m sure he didn’t know.” Belle gripped his arm with equal urges to hide and to protect him.

There seemed to be no plan beyond this. Hardly had they taken another breath before the bear lunged. Its enormous paws cinched between the bars. The cage shook, knocking the small pair again. The snout poked at where it may have expected a door. When it found none thanks to Zelena’s modifications, pointed teeth, yellow and dripping, crunched at the bars.

As it pulled, Rumple helped Belle up and stepped in front of her. “Get back.”

“I’m not letting it eat you!” she cried.

“I’m not going to let it eat me either!” He held up his hands. “Once he breaks through the cage, I’ll have enough power to disintegrate him.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair to the bear. He was probably just hungry. But Belle was very interested in getting out alive, so maybe it was needed to remove the threat entirely. Even so, guilt gnawed at her. She gripped Rumple’s wrist. “You don’t have to hurt him. Just scare him away. Isn’t that enough?”

“It might not be, and I’m not taking the chance!”

The bear couldn’t quite rip apart the bars, but it pulled at them hard enough to widen the spaces between some. Wide enough to slip through. The beast stopped its assault and looked over its handiwork.

“Gotcha!” Rumple’s hands began to glow.

The bear raised his head and stepped back.

“No, wait! Stop!” Belle grabbed Rumple’s arm and aimed down. The fairy instinctively shook her off.

The bear growled and took another step back.

“Rumple, look!” She pointed at the bear. “He’s not attacking now! Don’t hurt him!”

“He’s just waiting for us to come out to make his work easier!”

Belle was ready to beg him to trust her, even after she had messed up with the key and Zelena. Before she could, the ravens squawked loudly and came down. They landed on the bear’s back, and the bear, though a bit surprised, stood perfectly calm.

“Look!” she repeated. She tugged at Rumple’s arm. The fairy swiveled his head around. He was as bewildered as ever. Then he frowned. “Maybe they’re his helpers. How do you know this isn’t the witch’s doing?”

“Rumple.” Belle squeezed his hand and gazed up imploringly. “I messed up before, I know, but please trust me.”

“Belle—”

“I’ll step out first. If I’m wrong, save yourself. Understand?”

His mouth flapped open. He clearly wanted to say no. She didn’t know what stopped him. So much for controlling her impulses, she thought as she turned and headed for the deformed bars. She wiggled through and jumped down. Honestly, it was so good to be out from just one night locked away that meeting her end here wouldn’t have been the worst fate. As she’d anticipated, the bear stayed tranquil. He lowered his front end to the ground and rested his chin flat. Intrigued, Belle walked over to him. She looked in his eyes and now saw what she’d seen in the mouse: intelligence.

“Rumple!” she called. “He’s helping us, too! He’s—”

A beak snagged her by the back of her underdress. She yelped and flailed to get free. The bird lifted her a foot and a half off the ground, only to drop her on the bear’s back.

Still reeling, she stood and brushed herself off. “Was that really necessary?”

The ravens squawked at her and at each other. They seemed to find it more amusing than necessary. She began to climb up the bear’s neck and call to Rumple, only to see the fairy setting down before her. His wings churned up golden dust that looked even more dazzling in the waxing dawn.

“I take it this is the last part of the exit strategy,” he said wryly.

For all the bruises and frights she just suffered, Belle felt a need to laugh. “Were you hoping for white knights on gallant steeds?”

“I need no knight to rescue me,” Rumple declared while brandishing a hand.

“No, just a troop of woodland creatures. Or perhaps fellow captives.” She said this last part toward the ravens right before they took off for the sky.

“This must be your doing,” the fairy remarked. He took a seat between the bear’s shoulders.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t plan this.”

“No, but if that mouse is responsible for all this, it was to rescue you, not me.”

He sent her a meaningful look. Belle was left stunned. She hadn’t considered that at all. Well, she’d thought that her rodent friend was involved for her benefit, but all this effort to save her when she had done so little?

“Dearest, please sit before the bear gets going.” With an impish grin, he beckoned her to sit beside him.

Belle sighed. Then, smiling herself, she did him one better. She plopped into his lap, enfolding herself around her neck and snuggled in, ready for this adventure to be over.

It must have been about midday when Belle woke up again. She was still in Rumple’s lap with his fingers stroking her hair. She tilted her head back. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere Zelena won’t dare to follow,” Rumple said.

“Oh, good.” She busied stretching herself before glimpsing around. Hmm. It looked like more forest. Very pretty forest, especially lush for this time of year. The light had a mesmerizing effect as it filtered through the rustling leaves. No urgency pressed her to ask for more details—or she was too sleepy to care. But another subject of interest came to mind.

She turned a little further into Rumple’s arms and rested her forehead on his neck. “Tell me about your son.”

Something not quite fear, not quite sadness touched his expression. “My son?”

“Mm-hmm. Baelfire. Do you mind talking about him?”

His gray eyelids fluttered. Some tension crawled through the muscles in his arms, which she could feel around her. The way he swallowed so nervously concerned her, and at the same time slightly distracted her as she watched his Adam’s apple move. Not the time for indecent thoughts, she chided.

“Well, he’s … he was taken. She took him when I wasn’t looking after him. Th-there’s a lot I wish I could explain. But maybe there’s no point.”

Belle sat up. She cupped his cheek. “You don’t have to now. Tell me the basics. How old is he?”

Rumple nodded. “Fourteen.”

“Okay. What’s he like?”

“He’s … brave. Braver than I ever was.” His eyes turned downward. “And he’s a good boy. He didn’t deserve any of this.”

A gentle sting hit Belle’s eyes. She smiled. “You really love him.”

“Aye.” He breathed in fast. She could feel his chest heave with emotion deeper than she could imagine feeling. “He’s my boy. My beautiful boy.”

“Then we’ll find a way to help him. We can now.”

“But Zelena—I don’t know what she did to him. He could be anywhere. Even—”

The bear they were riding stumbled over something. Belle turned and petted his nape. “Whoa! You all right?”

He growled with a rather melancholy note.

“There, there.” Belle kept patting him at the risk of falling out of Rumple’s hold. “We aren’t going much further, right? Rumple?”

“Just to the top of the hill,” Rumple said.

“And what’s there? We’re not visiting Zelena’s sister, are we? I’m not sure who's worse.”  
The fairy giggled. “They’re neck and neck when it comes to being pains in the neck. No, it’s our slightly better option.”

“Oh, that’s assuring.” Belle sighed while situating herself back into his lap.

His hands felt glad to be on her waist again. He nestled his mouth near her ear. “You’ll have more reason to enjoy it than I.”

“Really?” Belle tilted back into his touch. “Why’s that?”

“Weeeell … you’ll see.”

Her rolling eyes belied the bubble of excitement ballooning in her now. Just about any place, even an undisclosed destination, sounded better than where they had been mere hours ago. She yawned and slumped her back against Rumple’s chest. “Then we’ll find Baelfire?”

“Absolutely.” He hummed into her hair. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I hope he’ll like me. Or else he’ll send his scary fairy father after me.”

“Oh, well, nothing to be done about that.”

Whether it was the sunlight or being this close to someone else, warmth was seeping into her every pore. It was bringing her drowsiness back, and she was certain she’d drifted off before Rumple blew on her ear. She’d flinched so hard her skull bonked on him the nose.

“Ugh, my best feature!” he cried, groaning and giggling as he rubbed it.

“Take it as a lesson. If I want you blowing in my ear, you imp, I’ll let you know.” She sent him a sharp stare as a warning. Undoubtedly it bordered on being coy, too, and shortly she succumbed to blushing and looked forward with an embarrassed smile.

The black bear started yammering at them in his incomprehensible growls.

“Oh, what are you complaining about?” Rumple chided.

“He’s probably tired,” Belle said. “Are we there y—?”

She thought it was already a sunny day, but it was like the clouds had parted. The world drowned in light. Bright, white, even burning for a moment. Belle had to shield her face. When the light softened, she could see that it was bending into multiple streams of color. With every second her vision adjusted. Within a minute it was clear that a ribbon of these colors had landed at her feet. They were also completely clear of any trees, leaving only blue sky and this bright ribbon before them.

“… am I actually awake?”

“Darling,” Rumplestiltskin said, “you haven’t seen anything.”

Their procession stopped before this celestial vision. Belle stood only, only to feel herself completely lifted off the bear’s shoulders. It wasn’t the doing of the ravens. Rumplestiltskin carried her well above any human’s height. He carried her to where she could see the colorful ribbon as a road of light arching into the heavens.

“It’s a rainbow!”

“I knew you’d figure it out,” he teased. His head brushed against hers while he nodded upward. “Aaand here comes the slightly better option.”

Belle looked up, too, and gawked. Something as bright as the rainbow was riding its radiance like a surf. Someone, actually. A woman donned in a blue glowing dress. The transparent dragonfly wings on her back and the blue sparkles dancing around her body clued Belle in on what sort of creature they were about to meet. The illustrations in her books weren’t all that off.

“Rumplestiltskin.” The blue fairy’s voice was gentle, yet it shook Belle’s bones like thunder. “You’ve escaped punishment, I see. And kidnapped a mortal in the process. I thought you’d have learned something by now.”

Belle reacted as though this stranger had slapped her cheek. “Excuse me. He did not kidnap me. I helped him escape. What do you mean ‘punishment’?”

The lady fairy sighed. “I’m sorry if he’s misled you, but his appearance is rather obvious. The skin, the teeth—they scream ‘dark fairy’ to most people.”

“Be that as it may,” Belle replied, “there was more at stake than Rumple’s well-being. The witch took his son, too, and wanted to use Rumple in a plot against Queen Regina.”

“Yes. I was hoping they’d end up destroying each other.”

Before the appalled mortal could speak her mind with much less restraint, Rumple giggled loudly. “Oh, Reul Ghorm, sentimental as always! No wonder you’re so popular.”

“It would improve the welfare of the realm,” the blue fairy answered coolly.

“No doubt. But how about we improve the lives of these poor souls first?”

Still holding tightly to Belle, the dark fairy extended a hand toward the ground. Belle gasped. It wasn’t just the bear down there. The mice and rats and squirrels, and even the ravens were forming a little mob at the base of the rainbow.

Reul Ghorm was quite incredulous at the sight. She arched her eyebrows at Rumple. “Awfully magnanimous of you. Why don’t you change them back?”

“Well, I would,” he said through his teeth, “if someone hadn’t taken my wand.”

“Oh—yes.” The little smirk that came and went looked involuntary, but Belle was not ready to pardon the fairy’s behavior. “Then I shall do the honors.”

The fairy floated down to the earth, her wings flapping more slowly than Rumple’s. As her friend was about to follow, Belle stopped Rumple with a hand on his chest. “Who is she?”

“Reul Ghorm, the most powerful fairy in the realm. You might know her as the Blue Fairy.”

“And she took your wand? She has that right?”

He shrugged. “To be fair, she’s done worse to other dark fairies. She banished the Black Fairy to the end of the known universe. But Carabosse was called the ‘Black Fairy’ for a good reason.”

Belle mulled this over, then gave a skeptical look. “So, you forgive her?”

“Oh, gods no. If I weren’t so set on getting Bae—and not carrying you around—I’d be tempted to tear her wings right off.”

She frowned at him, though not as severely as he deserved. “At least you have your priorities in order.”

“For the moment,” Rumple said. Then he dropped down after the Blue Fairy.

By the time they were back near the ground, the powerful fairy had assembled everyone in a circle, all equally spaced apart. She started to raise her wand, then paused. She turned to look up at the descending pair. “They tell me they rescued both of you from Zelena. But they did it for Belle, who showed the mouse Gus such kindness.”

Belle folded her lips inward and averted her eyes from everyone. “That was very kind of them. I don’t think I did much.”

“Obviously it was enough to move them to action when you were in trouble. Don’t undervalue your good actions, Belle. They can do more than you could imagine.” Her gaze slid toward Rumplestiltskin. “So can evil acts.”

“Yes, yes.” Rumple’s head bobbed side to side. “Are you going to help the vermin or not?”

With stately grace, Blue faced the animals again. She raised her wand above her head. A cloud of glittering blue dust suddenly proliferated all over the group.

Seconds later, the dust cleared, and a ring of ordinary people stood in a ring. Where Belle’s mouse had been stood a young black man, and when their eyes met he smiled sweetly. A boy with dark fluffy hair replaced the black bear that had freed them from the cage. He too looked up.

Rumplestiltskin dropped another foot toward the ground, making Belle cry out in surprise. “Bae!”

“Papa!” The boy jumped and waved.

Belle was too astonished for words. She forgot her momentary fright as Rumple brought her into the ring. His hands were slow to let her go, but release her he did so she could step forward and look at every face with special attention to the former mouse and bear.

“Thank you!” she shouted so they could hear. “Thank you so much!”

The young man, Gus, knelt before Belle. “We have you to thank. Zelena had cursed all of us for one reason or another, and we’d lost hope of being freed. I feared the same would happen to you when you showed up. But you showed courage, Belle, as I’ve rarely seen in my life. You didn’t give up, and the danger only made you kinder to the ones in need. Even the dark fairy.” He shared a glance with Rumple. The wariness was still there, but he nodded, and Rumple acknowledged it.

“Belle,” Gus continued when he looked at her again, “we saved you because you gave us hope and showed real bravery—not for yourself, but for others. We owed it to you.”

Each person took their turn to thank her in fewer words. It was like swimming in an ocean of feeling. Belle felt sure her little heart couldn’t hold it all. She let a sob go while managing to hold back tears.

“All right, everyone,” announced Blue, “you are free. Return home, embrace your families.” She gestured to Rumple’s son with her wand. “Baelfire, if you please.” The wand motioned him away from the group.

Bae nodded and followed, as did Rumple once he picked up Belle again. The rescued people dispersed, although Belle turned around in time to see Gus wave to her. She waved back energetically.

She had expected to stay in Rumple’s arms, until Baelfire raised a hand. “Papa? May I say hello to Belle?”

The fairy and the small woman looked at each other. The smile growing on Belle’s face betrayed her eagerness, and the gulp her nervousness. Rumplestiltskin was nervous, she could tell. His own smile encouraged her to go ahead. He carefully lowered her onto his son’s hand.

“Hello, Belle,” Bae said. He held his hand very still.

Belle straightened her under-dress. She really should have grabbed her dress or cloak earlier. What a state to meet Rumple’s son. She tried to compensate with a curtsy. “It’s very nice to meet you, Baelfire. I hope you didn’t mind us riding you.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you stopped my father from trying to—what was the word, Papa? ‘Disintegrate me’?” The look and the tone the boy used belonged to someone older and quite experienced with the temper of a dark fairy.

“Oh, Bae!” Rumple’s hands trembled, and his fingers rubbed together. “I-I didn’t mean—well, I didn’t know!”

“We did think you were going to eat us,” Belle explained.

“I’m sorry for that. It was the first time I’d seen Papa in some time, and I couldn’t stand seeing him trapped like that.” Again, he turned severe when looking at Rumple. “I hope I wasn’t wrong.”

His father sighed. Much like his son, his expression turned bitter when he looked at Blue. “You’ve been a bad influence.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “Do I really need to explain at this point? It’s like talking to a wall!”

This banter, while a bit entertaining, was getting them nowhere. Belle addressed the Blue Fairy: “Reul Ghorm, what did you want to speak to us about?”

The question did the trick. Flying right past Rumple, Blue faced Belle directly, hovering half a foot away from Baelfire’s hands. “It’s the matter of your reward. Good deeds should be their own reward, of course, but I also know what your heart desires. I can grant you your wish, if you choose it.”

Belle nearly lost her balance on Bae’s palm from disbelief. The good boy offered his fingertips for support. She put them to use. “Really? You mean … I can make a request?”

“Well, it can’t be too extreme. Magic has a price, after all, even good magic. But you have earned what you long for—to be regular sized.”

Belle blinked. “Oh. Well … I suppose I have wanted that. Sometimes.”

Blue gripped her wand in both hands, looking a bit impatient. “All right. Then tell me what you truly want.”

In the silence left in the wake of that request, Belle heard her heart thumping like a drum. Every other thump she thought of the love she’d lost and left behind. Mother, Father, friends. She considered her struggles. To be big … it would be nice, but …

Like a fish caught on a line, Belle’s gaze was unconsciously drawn up toward Rumple. She felt her heart thump faster. Not just beating. Dancing. It had danced when he smiled his true smile, when he held her close, when he kissed her, even when they just shared a laugh or talked about his son …

She looked at Baelfire over her shoulder. Now might not be the right time to ask but, really, it was. She needed to know. “Bae, is there anyone besides your Papa to take care of you?”

While surprised, Bae did not hesitate to answer. “I have a friend in my village whose parents help me, and Blue looks after me. But … not since my mother died.”

Belle smiled softly. When she faced Blue again, she could see that the great fairy knew her wish.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Although, I would like to see my father again, someday. But yes. I’m sure.”

Rumple hovered closer to her while keeping a healthy distance from Blue. “Belle?”

Belle held up her hand to beg his patience for a moment longer. “Can you do it?”

“Yes, although it’s a bit unconventional. Normally you’d need training and such—which I suppose Rumplestiltskin could provide. But—” Blue came closer. “The moment he tries to push you down dark paths, you come to me, understand?”

“You won’t have to worry.” Frankly she didn’t want any further interference from Reul Ghorm if it could be helped. And Belle knew her mind. What she would have one clear purpose, and she’d not let herself stray.

“I will worry whether you want me to or not.” Another sigh that could have made a storm. The Blue Fairy lifted her wand. “Ready?”

Belle nodded, then held her breath.


	5. Epilogue

The first month had its awkward incidents. Casting spells looked so much easier when other fairies did it! But Bae had taken it well when a cup of water turned into a bath tub, or when she accidentally turned a worm into a python that now guarded the house day and night. Except in the winter, where it spent every minute on the hearth.

Changing from big to small remained her favorite thing, for all her growing power. That and keeping the garden healthy and the books preserved. She wasn’t sure which part was more thrilling. Well, the choice wasn’t hard when Rumple came home.

After the chores were done, the house restored from any mishaps she might have inflicted, Belle glowed upon seeing the scaly fairy sitting at Baelfire’s bedside, book in hand. Once Bae was asleep and tucked in, enjoying dreams inspired by the latest tome, they shrank down and flew out into the evening air. She still admired the golden dust that clung to his wings and swirled about when he flew. Why her wings were lavender and more butterfly-like they neither knew, but it was a lovely contrast. They enjoyed racing through the meadow and leaving a spiral in their wake.

“Hah!” she cried when she reached the first tree on the other side. “I won again!”

“So you did.” He caught up and hovered beside her. “You’ve got flying down pat.”

“And you’re not letting me win?” Belle asked with an arched stare.

“Oh, my dear,” Rumple said, coming close to her so that their dust mingled and they felt the air under each other’s wings, “you know how sore a loser I am.”

“I don’t think you see letting me win a flying race as losing.” She grabbed his hand, and in one impressive tug she pulled him into her. She smiled while biting her lower lip.  
Rumple leaned in until their lips were a hair’s width apart. “And why’s that?”

“Because … you still get to make fun of me for the snake incident.”

“Oh, not make fun! Just playfully remind you of where you need improvement.”

She zipped backward and stuck out her tongue. “What about tomorrow? Bae is spending the day with Wendy. We’ll have the house to ourselves.” She tried to look disappointed, but not as disappointed as how she feared she’d feel from his answer. “Unless you have business elsewhere.”

The mood grew a little more serious. Belle was almost sorry for bringing it up. She didn’t want to be a nag. At the same time, she wished he wasn’t off settling this dispute or that deal and working his own angle so often, especially as she was still learning. And as good as it was to have him for bedtime, Bae missed him at other times.

Rumplestiltskin was clearly debating with himself. She’d decided not to tell him about his little tic with the rubbing fingers, since it helped her know when he was truly bothered. And it was endearing.

At last he hovered closer and took her softly by the wrist. “Do you feel neglected? Tell me truly.”

“Not neglected. Just … a little lonely. Bae’s going out more, as he should at his age. I’m glad to be around for him. But it’s not the same when you’re not there.”

“I’m still getting used to that.”

Belle tilted her head with concern. “To what?”

A brief sheepish smile came and went. “Being wanted.”

“Well, you should get used to it, all right? Promise me.”

“I’m not sure I should. It means more to me than you know.” He lifted her hands and kissed every knuckle.

If only he knew what it meant to her being with him and Baelfire. She didn’t presume to understand all that he had lived through; so too the reverse. But she wanted to show him every day how much he meant to her. Tonight, she started by touching her forehead to his, slipping a hand free of his loving hold so she could cup the back of his neck, and smothering him with long deep kisses.

Just to start.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my RCIJ (Rumbelle Christmas in July) fic for villainsarebetter on Tumblr. I always loved the idea of Rumple as a fairy (dark fairy or not). I also got inspired by the animated film Thumbelina.


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